


unexpected vision, unexpected poem

by Musing_and_Music



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Gwendalavir - Pierre Bottero
Genre: Alternate Universe, Former young Royai, Gen, Gwendalavir universe, Hopeful Ending, Light Angst, Riza is a Shadewalker, Roy is a Designer, Yearning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-25 12:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30089307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Musing_and_Music/pseuds/Musing_and_Music
Summary: Riza is sent to fulfil a mission: giving a message to someone. But the man sleeping in front of her is not the one she expected. Memories overwhelm her, and she leaves another messageA poemAU from the books from Pierre Bottero
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye & Roy Mustang, Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Kudos: 1





	unexpected vision, unexpected poem

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!
> 
> I think this OS will need a bit of explanations about the AU where it's happening. When I was a child, fifteen years ago, I discovered a book series from a French author: Ewilan's Quest. This author, Pierre Bottero (may God rest his soul), wrote several trilogies in the same universe, with the same characters. I grew with them, with Gwendalavir, and I felt really happy to have read such a good story.
> 
> I've always found it was a shame that the books weren't translated in English, but that will change thanks to a kickstarter project. A animation studio plans to make an animated series from the books, and in English, yes! You'll find the link on my tumblr (musing-and-music) if you want to take part to it.
> 
> So I've decided to share this short OS written a few weeks ago, when I fell again in Ewilan's Quest. I'll write a glossary at the end.
> 
> Disclaimer: Fullmetal Alchemist belongs to Hiromu Arakawa, and Ewilan's Quest belongs to Pierre Bottero.
> 
> Enjoy!

A breath, a light touch. She pulls and her hold doesn’t move the stone. She rises on the wall, swift like a lizard, silent like the shadows on the city. She rests for a few seconds on a protrusion on the wall, then resumes her climbing. The window opens easily under her fingers, and she leans against the sill before entering the room. Silence and darkness welcome her, and she slides into them with delight. She’s in her element.

Thanks to her Graft, she scans her surroundings. She puts a blond thread of her behind her ear as she detects a cat in the nearest room, rodents in the walls and under her feet, and a man lying at the edge of her Graft’s potential. It’s him. She gets out of the room, walking like she’s lived here and has known every squeaking batten on the floor for years. Like she’s home.

She stops as a thought, a memory, gets into her mind. Her home is gone for years. Now she’s always moving, she never settles, goes along with the wind, with the first principle of Shadewalkers. Freedom.

The door of the bedroom is slightly ajar, and when she pushes it doesn’t make any noise. The room is vast, faintly lit by dying embers in the hearth. She steps near the fireplace and takes a cold lump of charcoal from the stone floor. She stands now in front of the white wall, her hand raised, ready to fulfill her mission.

An intuition, a sudden impulsion, like an invisible thread tensing. She turns to the bed and approaches the sleeping man in a few steps. She frowns. He’s younger than expected. Then, a flame rises in a last effort from the fire dying in the night, lighting the sleeper’s features and his dark hair. She rises, her hand on her mouth. Her eyes burn. Why him?

Memories come back to her. Meals taken in a knowing silence. Walks, hand in hand. Evening spent beside one another, talking about the world and the future. Hours spent in old books. A smile fading away. “I’m sorry.” And loneliness embraces her, becomes her new companion.

A few steps, and her back is on the wall. She fights panic winning over her. Her heart’s crazy beatings ring to her ear and shakes her out of her torpor. She must calm down, stay silent, fulfill her mission. She breathes. Inspiration, expiration. But the few lines she draws on the wall are not the message she must write.

She hears a subtle change behind her: an increasing breathing, the gentle brush of an arm on the sheets, the almost silent batting of eyelids on sleepy eyes.

“Who’s there?” The voice sounds uncertain, but she can’t mistake it for another.

It’s really him. She clenches her jaw, crunches the lump of charcoal between her fingers and the crumbles fall on the ground. She tenses and closes her eyes, fighting an overwhelming emotion.

Light increases, and now she can see her shadow dancing on the wall. Why? Why has he woken up? She shouts for herself.

“Turn toward me!” His voice is compelling, and she understands he’s used to command.

Light gets closer to her, and from the far edge of her eye, she can see a thin flame floating toward her. On the other side, the window is at arm reach, and there isn’t any obstacle on the way. She inspires, regains her composure, and anguish fades away. Memories aren’t important, she convinces herself. At least, she tries to convince herself, and it works.

For now.

She knows that once in a safe place, she will think again about this fateful encounter. And she knows he’ll know it all when he’ll read her poem.

She turns to face the man sitting on his bed. His eyes widen as they meet hers. He moves his Design away from her.

“Riza?”

He rises. Too late. Riza has already taken the opportunity to run, open the window and disappear in the darkness. But she leaves the light from her amber eyes and the reflection of flames on her blond hair behind her, etched in Roy’s mind.

He stays still, unable to think about anything else than the scene that has just happened. He hasn’t seen her for five years, since the day he’s left her father’s house, and he sees her again in his home, in his bedroom. What was she doing here?

He’d learned to know her, and the light in her eyes hasn’t fooled him. She hadn't expected to see him.

Eventually, he looks at the wall. His heart pounds in his chest as he reads the words written with charcoal, illuminated by his flame.

_Unexpected vision of the past  
_ _Sudden melancholia capturing the heart  
_ _Reviving hope_

Roy falls back on his bed, gasping, and his eyes shine bright. He leaves the Imagination and darkness falls again in his room. He understands.

Riza is a Shadewalker.

Riza hasn’t forgotten him. Hasn’t forgotten any of their days together.

Darkness is the only witness of the lone tear running on his cheek.

**Author's Note:**

> **Glossary**
> 
> Shadewalker: someone who pledge their life to harmony and freedom. They form a guild. There are master Shadewalkers, Shadewalkers, and apprentices (who gives 3 years of their life to a master). Shadewalker poetry is one of their talents (along with Shadewalker chant)
> 
> Graft: A Shadewalker apprentice can pretend for the Graft after being presented to the guild. He goes to the Rentaï, a lonely montain, and can ask for the Graft. They don't always obtain it, but it doesn't devalue them as Shadewalkers.
> 
> Designers: People who can make real what they imagine. They use a power called Imagination, and are more or less powerfull.
> 
> Let me know if there's something you didn't understand, or leave a review for the sake of leaving a comment!  
> I hope you liked!


End file.
